Stories Lived
by SirenAlpha
Summary: Desmond wasn't ready to meet Juno beyond the gate within the precursor's temple, but he was out of time. Then, the Apple suddenly gifts him with more time than one man could use and a couple of his ancestors to help him spend it. AKA the fix it fic where Desmond gets to save the world and live to tell his own tale.
1. Chapter 1

I have been sitting on this fic for years. I recently got back into Assassin's Creed so now I'm like I've actually got to post this despite the billion other things I need to be doing. This is its fourth incarnation so I do have a complete outline, but that's always subject to change. Right now, I'm just going to see how far my momentum takes me.

I am a history buff, but I can't promise 100% historical accuracy. Also, there will be shifts forward in time so they don't all become old men, and there will probably be canon pairings eventually. I'm also probably not going to be graphic when it comes to the violence.

* * *

Desmond stopped in front of the animus, lacking the usual sense of excitement and anxiety over what would happen next in his ancestors' lives. He had the ouroboros key from Connor's grave, and while no one had said it, he knew he would never be getting into the animus again.

"Are you ready?" William asked, voice worn.

"As I'll ever be," Desmond responded, looking warily up at the blue holographic gate.

Before moving, however, he turned to the Apple they had left sitting in the seat of the animus where it wouldn't roll away on them. He had wielded it once as an efficient weapon, and now it seemed so insignificant and harmless in the face of his next task. He reached out, wondering if Minerva had left one last message for him before abandoning him to face Juno.

He felt the cold smoothness of the Piece of Eden and the ground disappeared beneath his feet. His stomach dropped, and he instinctively pulled his hand away. He looked down to see new ground rushing towards him, and he braced for impact. He landed awkwardly, mostly on his toes, and he tipped forward; knees softening the landing for his face.

"Ow," he murmured to himself as he tried to judge just how far he'd fallen. Where had he even fallen from?

He could feel grass beneath his hands. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees to see the golden globe the Piece of Eden had produced; the last memory of Altaïr's he'd seen in the animus. He frowned as he watched the globe spin slowly. The angle was wrong.

Then he saw the man standing before the holographic globe. He glanced around to see if anything else in the memory was wrong. There were two men beside him gathering themselves and looking around just as he had. He recognized them as readily as he recognized the man before the globe. He looked back to the man robed in white standing before the globe and knew him to be Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad just as he knew the other men to be Ezio Auditore and Connor Kenway.

He had no idea what to do, but he was quickly coming to the conclusion that the Apple must have sent him back in time though he had no idea how Connor and Ezio had arrived with him. Too many thoughts crowded into his head for him to even begin to choose how to proceed.

"What is this place?" Connor asked though he did not look at Desmond.

A group of men came into the courtyard, and Desmond recognized them as Malik and his men. Altaïr collapsed to his knees before the globe, and Malik rushed to him. Desmond could remember him having used up all of his strength to face Al Mualim, but he couldn't remember if he'd been injured or not. Whatever the case, Altaïr would need rest.

"Malik," one of the men said, gesturing towards Desmond and his two other ancestors.

Malik straightened, hand on his sword and stepping before Altaïr. Desmond scrambled to his feet. "Safety and peace," Desmond said as if he were Altaïr, but somehow it sounded wrong. His mouth did not make the words the same way Altaïr's did though his mind felt them the same.

He glanced to his sides to see his ancestors' reactions.

Ezio and Connor both mimicked Malik with their weapons ready to be called upon at a moment's notice. Connor however looked rather befuddled as he understood none of the language. Desmond didn't believe Connor had ever heard much 12th century Arabic, and likely would have forgotten it due to disuse even if he had. Ezio, however, looked back and forth between Desmond and Malik as if he could parse out the language if he just squinted at them hard enough.

"You are not my brother," Malik growled. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

"I'm Desmond Miles," he explained as he pulled back the sleeve of his sweatshirt to reveal his hidden blade. "I'm an Assassin, and a descendent of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad."

Out of the corner of his eye, Desmond could see Ezio react first to his name and then to Altaïr's. Connor also stirred at the sound of Altaïr's name. However, Desmond refused to look away from Malik in case that's what got them killed.

"Impossible," Malik said though he didn't seem to believe his own words. "Altaïr has no family."

Desmond knew that it was impossible to deny family resemblance despite the centuries between him and Altaïr. He carefully gestured towards the Apple so as to not startle anyone. "I was brought here by the Piece of Eden."

"And you two?" Malik asked, looking at Connor and Ezio.

"I am Ezio Auditore," Ezio answered for himself in a strong accent. "I am also an Assassin and believe a Piece of Eden brought me here though I don't know for what purpose."

"He's Connor, and he doesn't speak this language," Desmond said, gesturing to Connor. "He's also an Assassin and probably also was brought here by a Piece of Eden."

"How do you know my name?" Connor asked Desmond.

"Long story," he told him in English, still keeping his eyes on Malik.

They all stood silently on the brink of a fight as the holographic globe spun and they sized each other up.

"I believe them," Altaïr said, struggling back to his feet.

"You're not in any state to offer such an assessment," Malik remarked.

"We have more pressing concerns than whether or not you believe them," Altaïr returned.

For a moment, they all looked at the body of the fallen Assassin leader. Malik looked from the body first. "If you are who you say you are, that you are Assassins, you will not mind if we hold you until such a time that we can determine your allegiance."

Desmond liked the sound of that well over getting stabbed in the guts. "Of course."

"If I remember my history correctly," Ezio said. "I could expect you to do no less. I'll surrender myself until such a time you can believe my honesty."

Desmond then quickly explained the situation to Connor in English. Connor nodded, removing his hand from his weapon. "I'll accept the imprisonment if that's what it takes to sort out this situation without bloodshed."

Desmond switched over to Arabic. "Connor agrees as well."

Malik quickly instructed the men he had brought with them to relieve the three of them of their weapons and lock them in one of their more comfortable cells. Well, Malik did not say that it was comfortable, but given Desmond's insider knowledge from the animus, he would not complain compared to other options available. Connor and Ezio turned over their weapons and armor with some reluctance. Desmond minded less as he knew no one would even be able to use the weapons for themselves except for his hidden blade.

The cell they were locked in was fairly small, but at least it had one window though that was more a slit in the wall than a true window. There were pallets on the floor and a bucket to act as a toilet. Desmond was not someone who prayed, but he was praying they weren't in there too long. Why did everything historical have to be so gross? This was worse than the Monteriggionni underground.

"Now, that we have time," Ezio began as he settled down onto one of the pallets. "Are you the Desmond the woman spoke of?"

"Yes, but this is gonna be one long story so let me tell Connor that this is gonna take a while," Desmond said, speaking to Ezio in his native Italian. Ezio seemed impressed with his fluency.

Desmond turn to Connor in English. "You kind of know the least out of all of is so it'll take a while for me to explain everything to you so just hang tight while I explain things to Ezio first."

"Hang tight?" Connor echoed.

"Have patience. You're a lot better at it than literally everyone else I know."

"Very well," Connor said, picking out a pallet for himself.

Desmond stayed standing so he could pace while he talked. "Just ask questions as they come up because neither of us are going to remember it all by the end of this," Desmond warned Ezio then launched into his tale and doing his best to translate the technology of the future as best he could with the dated Italian he had and the lack of context Ezio had.

Eio asked a lot of questions. Desmond did his best to answer him, but there was only so much he knew of the entire situation on his own. Eventually, he wound down to the last minutes before the solar flare and ended with, "And then the Apple dropped me here."

"I would not believe it if I had not seen the Apple for myself," Ezio said, leaning back against the wall of their cell. "We have much more still to discuss about how we should proceed from here."

"We've got other people to catch up first," Desmond said then switched over to English for Connor and start the spiel all over again.

Morning arrived before Desmond finished speaking and answering Connor's questions. He felt like his mouth had gone completely dry. He also had no idea what the Assassins beyond their cell were doing. He had a sense of it given Altaïr's knowledge of them, but he knew the Altaïr of this time had much more of Assassin bureaucracy to learn before he could fully understand the complexity of the situation. Therefore, Desmond knew just as little of it at this time in history.

At least they received breakfast and a large ration of water at day break. Desmond kept staring up into the little slit of the window to look at the sunlight.

"Do you see something?" Ezio asked.

"I told you the solar flare was coming before I left," he said then looked away from the window. "I had expected to never see another morning."

"That is something worth looking at," Eio mused. Desmond, of course, knew that he had spent a few mornings in his lifetime looking at dawning light he'd never expected to land upon his living flesh. Such was the life of an Assassin.

Within a few minutes, however, Desmond grew bored and restless. That was also the life of an Assassin. You want peace in times of trouble and action in times of stillness. "Hey, Connor," Desmond said.

"Yes?" Connor asked, sounding weary even though there was nothing to be weary about.

"Did you know your grandfather was a pirate Assassin?"

"What?"

"Yeah, Edward Kenway. I knew of him because he was friends with Blackbeard, but Shaun told me he was an Assassin, too. Kept the Templars from getting some sort of precursor technology in the Caribbean then retired to England."

"I didn't know," Connor said quietly. "If he was an Assassin how did my father come to be a Templar?"

"Edward Kenway died by the time Haytham was ten. So officially, he got adopted in before he could be trained too much as an Assassin. Unofficially, we're pretty sure Edward was killed and Haytham essentially kidnapped," he said, trying to keep it soft. He had left out that he had been in Haytham's memories before Connor's. More to keep the conflict it had caused between himself and his father private than to keep it a secret from Connor. Desmond didn't like that he knew the man and would prefer to keep his memories as far from his mind as possible.

Connor nodded, deciding to mull over the information rather than discuss it further. It wasn't what Desmond wanted at all. He sighed and pulled out his phone. He was surprised to find that it still had a charge. It wouldn't be of much use to him in this time period, so why not use up the last of the battery for some fun?

"What is that?" Ezio asked, gesturing to his phone.

"It is a cellphone," he said then had no idea how to explain it further without making it sound like magic. "It lets you talk to people over long distances if they have one, too. Nobody else has one so it's kind of useless, but I can use it to entertain myself so I don't die of boredom."

"How does it work? Is it like the Apple?" he asked.

"It's complicated. I only have a vague idea of how the phone all works, and that comes from being born in the century I was," Desmond confessed. "There's literally not words that you know that could explain it. This thing can't control people though if that's what you're worried about. Humans made it, not precursors."

"I cannot imagine humanity coming so close to the technology of the precursors as you call them."

"We're not that close. We can't even figure out what humans used to make before. Like, we have no idea how to make Roman concrete, Greek fire, or Damascus steel. We forget shit just as quickly as we learn it. If Shaun's right, which he usually is when it comes to history, the fabric of this time period is better than the fabric of the future when I'm from."

"Perhaps your animus would help recover some of that information. It has served you well so far."

"Yeah, but it has a pretty high cost," Desmond said, feeling as if he hadn't fully impressed upon his ancestor how taxing learning from within the animus was. Would ruining a man's mind be worth learning to construct new material resources? Desmond would say no.

Connor broke into the silence. "What are you discussing?"

"Cellphone," Desmond answered, holding it up for Connor to see. "Do you want me to start teaching you Arabic? That way we'll all have at least one language in common."

Connor nodded. "I would appreciate that."

"Okay, so, fair warning, I've never tried to teach anyone a language before so this might be a little weird," he explained, and Connor nodded again like he had expected it.

It was messy even without any writing implements. Connor had a bit of a knack for languages, as Desmond had discovered in most of his ancestors, and Ezio quickly picked up on what they were doing and tried to help. At least Connor and Ezio seemed to find some amusement in his struggles. He didn't mind them laughing at him with all the troubles invading all of their lives. Needless to say, they did not get very far by the time the door to the cell opened again.

Malik stood beyond the door, and he did not carry food with him. "The Dai would like to speak with you and discuss your fate."

Connor might not have understood the words, but even he understood the gravity laden in Malik's tone.

"We're ready," Desmond answered for them.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. Please review if you liked it. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Desmond resisted the urge to fidget as he stood before the Dai. He had expected to meet them in something like a court room, but Malik had instead brought them to another section of the library. He felt like he recognized most of the men, but he couldn't put any names to any faces. He didn't know if that was his fault or Altaïr's. No one spoke for some time as both sides sized each other up, and that made everything worse.

"Let's start with something simple then," one of the men said. Desmond could suddenly recall his name; Baqir. "What are your names?"

"I am Ezio Auditore da Firenze."

"I'm Desmond Miles."

He looked over to Connor to see if he needed a translation. He clearly didn't need it because he said, "Connor."

"Malik has informed us that you claim to be Assassins from other times and places. I do not know how one would prove that you are from another time, but you are clearly not from here. What would be easier to prove is if you know our Brotherhood. I hope you will not mind if we question you."

"Go ahead," Ezio told him.

"I'll vouch for Connor since he does not share a language with you, and you cannot test him for yourselves," Desmond said, and he could tell that made a few among the Dai uncomfortable. He had nothing better that he could offer them.

The questioning went on for a long time. Desmond would feel that he was being put through the wringer were Altaïr's memories not providing him the answer to every question. His answers didn't seem to settle the Dai. He could feel their eyes crawling over his skin. His uncanny similarity in appearance to Altaïr would perhaps be detrimental to proving himself trustworthy.

One of the Dai Desmond couldn't name shot him a dour look and said, "You dress like you're from another land, but you know the Brotherhood as if you were one of our own. Even your companion does not know it as well as you do."

"Well, he's not from the same time as me, and in my time, I had more access to information about your time," he explained.

The Dai made a displeased noise, but didn't ask any further questions.

"I am convinced," a different Dai said. "After willingly being held and answering our questions, they are either part of our Order or are allies."

A few disagreements arose, mostly concerning that they hadn't had enough time to judge them.

Desmond looked to Ezio and then Connor. They didn't seem to know what he wanted, but he took the lack of obvious disapproval as a go ahead. "We don't need your help to continue our mission, but we would like it. If we are forced to act on our own, you won't receive the benefits of our collected information on the Templar Treasure as well as other related matters."

Desmond caught the small smile forming on Ezio's face, the kind of smile he gave his recruits when they had done well. Of course Ezio would try and make a Master Assassin out of him while they're together.

The ultimatum brought out a new tone to the room.

"I think it would serve us both best if we agreed to work together," Baqir said, and Desmond's sense of recognition grew stronger. "Are we in agreement?"

The majority of the Dai nodded or otherwise agreed, some more reluctantly than others. Desmond finally remembered Baqir as the man who would become the leader of the Assassins before Altaïr could take on the mantel. Desmond looked to Ezio and Connor again. Connor gave him a nod though Desmond doubted he knew exactly what was going on without a translation. Ezio told him in Italian, "Go ahead."

"We are agreed as well," Desmond told him.

"What can you tell us of the Templar Treasure?" Baqir asked, looking between the three of them.

"There is a lot to be discussed about the Templar Treasure," he answered. "Where would you like me to begin?"

"How is it possible that such an object could control so many men so completely?" a Dai asked.

"It was designed to control humans and humans to respond to it."

"Did you just say that humans were _designed_?"

"The Templar Treasure, we call it an Apple of Eden or a Piece of Eden, was created by a race of beings that lived on Earth eons ago, the Precursors. They also designed humanity we believe by enhancing one of the existing primate species. They placed a mechanism in humans' minds to maintain control over us to use us as slaves."

The room exploded into outrage, and Desmond began to wish that Charles Darwin had been born a few centuries earlier so he wouldn't have to explain evolution or genetics. At least then the moneky to man part wouldn't be so weird.

"Quiet!" Baqir commanded, and the Dai slowly settled down.

"The Apple was meant to be able to harness mental energy to create things in physical reality. It was meant to protect the world from the sun."

"Why would the world need protection from the sun?"

"Because the sun is like an oven that sometimes spits out flames. It reaches out, and sometimes far enough and strongly enough to burn the world. We call them solar winds. The last time the sun did that, it destroyed the Precursors," he said. "The Apple was created to protect the Precursors by using humanity, but it didn't work. Since then, the Apples have been used by a Precursor named Juno who has been using them to control humans to create wars and prevent us from protecting ourselves from the next solar wind."

Malik looked unimpressed. "You think a Roman goddess is using the Templar Treasure to ensnare men and keep us from protecting ourselves from the sun?"

"She's not a Roman goddess. The Precursors were only named gods after the first destruction of the world."

"What are you plans for the Templar Treasure or the Apple of Eden as you call it?" Baqir asks.

"Keep Juno's influence from spreading, and also keep them from Templar hands."

"How do you intend to do that?"

"I have no idea. We only recently discovered that Juno could exert influence through them," Desmond said, taking half of step back. "We haven't had time to plan, and hadn't planned to be sent to this time."

"We should be cautious then. Protect and isolate the one we have and make certain no one uses it. That's the least we can do given how dangerous it is," Malik said.

"We should keep most of this knowledge here," a Dai with a long beard said. "We have to declare a crisis state and send word of Al Mualim's betrayal to our brothers beyond the walls of Masyaf. We should tell them what the Treasure is capable of and no more."

"We should tell only the highest ranking the whole truth," another Dai added. "They'll likely have to face any Templars seeking the Treasure. It would be beneficial for them to have all of the information concerning it."

Murmurs of agreement spread around the room. Desmond relaxed only slightly. He would prefer the knowledge to be spread more widely, but letting the general populace know might spread panic or disbelief. It ultimately wouldn't help.

"What has happened?" Connor asked quietly. "Have they decided something?"

"They're going to protect the Piece of Eden," Desmond responded.

Connor nodded. "Good."

Desmond turned back to the group of Dai to find Baqir looking at them. "Now, what is it you three intended to do here?"

"A priority would have to be the collection of the other Pieces of Eden, but that can't be done without knowing how best to safeguard them."

Ezio cleared his throat. "Before our plans are finalized, I believe we will all be happy to help you in whatever way we can. We may not be from the same place or time, but this is still our Order."

"I agree," Desmond said then added. "Connor likely feels the same."

"You said you were Master Assassins, did you not?" a Dai asked. "We're not exactly in a position to refuse help from Master Assassins given our current condition."

A different Dai shook his head. "I am still not certain that they have proven themselves. It is too risky to take them on in such a manner."

"The Treasure proves their honesty. We shouldn't turn away their help."

The conversation spread around the room for a few minutes before petering out. Baqir said to them, "I believe that we have decided the best option is to let them stay and prove themselves. We will gain nothing if we turn them away."

"In what manner?" a Dai to his right asked.

Baqir shrugged. "They offered to help. Let them do so. They can assist Malik against the Templars and with protecting the Treasure."

"I agree that Malik should be charged with overseeing issues relating to the Templars, but what of Altaïr?"

"I don't think we should be putting so much emphasis on the Templars as to assign a Master Assassin solely to them."

"Considering the trouble they've caused in the past few months, to do less would be unwise."

"Do you find this agreeable, Malik?" Baqir asked.

Malik glanced at Desmond. "It is fine. I can handle the Templars and work with these three and Altaïr."

"It's decided then, at least when it comes to the Treasure," the Dai with the long beard said. "We'll have more to discuss when everyone returns."

The conversation turned away from the Treasure into talks of the logistics of most of the Order returning to Masyaf in the wake of the crisis. Desmond began translating the gist of the conversation to Connor. Malik then moved forward and gestured for the three time travelers to follow him out of the room.

"May I ask what you've done with the Apple?" Ezio asked as soon as the door had closed behind them.

"We have put it in a lock box and stored it in what were Al Mualim's chambers," Malik told them. "If you have a better option I'll gladly hear it."

"I would recommend a vault, but I do not know if one is near here."

"There isn't one near us," Desmond said. "Even if there were, we wouldn't know how to get into it."

"So it stays in the lock box."

"Where is Altaïr?" Desmond asked. He had been under the impression that he had gained the rank of Dai prior to killing Al Mualim. He should have been part of the conversation.

"The infirmary," Malik said. "His wounds are superficial, but he overworked himself. The doctors refuse to let him leave, and he has no tricks left against them. How is it that you know of Altaïr? You speak just like him."

"In Arabic," Desmond muttered under his breath. He didn't sound anything like Altaïr in English.

Ezio clapped Desmond on the shoulder. "I think he would like to hear your story."

"I'd rather tell Malik and Altaïr together at once," Desmond said.

"Then we go to the infirmary," Malik said, grinning in a way that would have looked mischievous on someone else.

Ezio followed Malik eagerly.

"What are we doing?" Connor asked.

Desmond took advantage of the momentary delay. "We're keeping the Apple locked away for now so we're going to go visit Altaïr in the infirmary. I get to do my whole spiel again."

"Okay," Connor said. "Maybe if I just keep listening I can pick up more of this language."

"Yeah, maybe," Desmond said, not wanting to discourage him or give him false hope. Connor was better at picking up languages than he was anyways.

Desmond couldn't help tensing as they made their way to the infirmary. Ezio's questions about the history and architecture of the building and Malik's answer to him weren't enough to distract Desmond from his worries. Despite how crazy it already was to be in the presence of Ezio and Connor, meeting Altaïr seemed completely different. Altaïr had been the first. Altaïr's mind was the only one he'd been forced into rather than choosing to enter to help their cause. He also can't help but feel that Altaïr would take the intrusion worst even if it had been out of Desmond's control.

"I see you're feeling better," Malik said as if Altaïr would not already be annoyed enough without his armor and weapons.

"Please tell me you have not come to prolong my torture," he responded, and it doubtlessly would have been more acerbic if he didn't have the people Malik had brought with him to divide his attention.

"I'd hardly call being told to rest torture," Malik said, rolling his eyes. "And besides, I've brought you guests."

"Is that what they are?" he asked, scowling at them.

Desmond chanced a glance over at Connor and Ezio and winced. They both stared at Altaïr like they could hardly believe he was actually in front of them. He should have stressed more that Altaïr was not the man they knew him to be, not yet.

Though, to be fair, maybe Desmond did not know everything about Altaïr anyways. He looked better than Desmond had expected him to after being put through such an extreme emotional wringer. He was certainly grumpy and looked like he could use some more sleep, but he wore a clean tunic and pants as well as dressings for his wounds. He'd even kicked off the covers on his infirmary bed in a small show defiance though he'd agreed to stay in the bed.

"They're time travelers. Apparently, the Templar Treasure can send our future brothers back to aid us and themselves," Malik added.

Altaïr gave Malik a look like he wanted to call him a liar but couldn't. He'd seen plenty of unbelievable things already, what was one more? He sighed and looked at the three of them. "Who are you then, future brothers?"

It almost sounded sarcastic to Desmond, but Ezio either didn't hear it or didn't care. He bowed politely to Altaïr. "I'm Ezio Auditore da Firenze. I'm honored to meet you."

Altaïr looked a little weirded out, which Desmond figured after how many months of being the disgrace of the Order. Master Assassins typically weren't treated with much honor, not Ezio's nobility type anyways, just respect.

Connor straightened himself, standing upright like a soldier, and got out a heavily accented, "I am Connor."

Desmond gave him a nod for getting it right. He took a deep breath to brace himself then said, "I'm Desmond Miles. The Dai have asked us to work together against the Templars, and I have a lot of information to give you."

"Then you might try looking for seats," Altaïr said, and Desmond was grateful for the delay.

"With our luck we won't find any," Malik said.

For once, he was wrong. They managed to find enough stools to seat them all around Altaïr's bed. Desmond clears his throat then begins. "Ezio and Connor have already heard all of this, and ask any questions as they come up."

Malik had many, many questions about everything, and nearly none of Desmond's answers satisfied him.

"How do you not know how anything works?" he asked irritably.

"Because I'm not a scientist! Neither are you for that matter. Why do you need to know the details about how we siphon power off the grid?"

"I only want to understand what you're talking about. How can I verify the information if you cannot explain how you came to your conclusions and found your answers?"

"I don't know how it works, only how I used it! I used the animus, the animus needs electricity to run, so we stole it from the grid, and we had to steal it because we couldn't hide in a proper safe house that already had electricity because Templars could find us. This is literally useless information. There's not even a grid for another thousand years," Desmond said exasperated.

"Malik," Altaïr said, finally interrupting. "If we can bear not to understand the inner workings of the Templar Treasure, we can allow the details of the animus to rest so that Desmond may finish his story."

"I would not ask so many questions if he spoke more plainly," Malik argued.

"Apparently, this is not a story that becomes easier to tell with practice," Ezio said, clearly amused at the difficulty Desmond faced in getting his story out.

"This isn't my language," Desmond tells Malik, ignoring Ezio for the moment. "It's not even a version of the language from my own time. I cannot translate everything. I'm doing the best I can."

"Very well," Malik said, settling back from his forward leaning, aggressive posture. "I won't ask for anymore unnecessary details."

"Great," Desmond said before taking a breath and launching back into his tale. He finishes with saying, "And that's how we ended up here. Also, this morning the Dai assigned us and Malik to the Templars and recovering the Pieces of Eden once you're healthy."

"We can plan while he finishes healing," Ezio said.

"We don't need to do much planning. The closest Piece of Eden is on Cyprus, your Piece of Eden actually," Desmond says. "I remember some of what all goes on for the Templars after de Sable's death, but I don't know exactly where the Piece of Eden is because none of you were the ones that found it there."

"Sounds like there's still planning to be done then," Malik said. "We should also get you different clothes. You're too ostentatious as you are. It will take time to make three more Master Assassin uniforms."

"Two," Desmond corrected.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"I don't need a Master Assassin uniform. I never achieved that rank."

Malik sighed like Desmond personally saw to doubling all of his problems. "What rank did you achieve then?"

"We didn't really have ranks, not the way you do. You either were a Master Assassin or you weren't," he said and shrugged. "I don't have any comparable to give you either. I never trained with a sword, hidden blades are nearly obsolete. You could say I've trained under Altaïr, Ezio, and Connor with the animus, but it's only in my head. I'm as likely to get myself stabbed as be of any use."

"Then you have training to do," Altaïr said.

Desmond wanted to die just a little bit.

* * *

I'm only using canon up to AC4 which I think works for how much Desmond knows. I only made it through playing half of Unity anyways.

Also, you may have noticed that I didn't make Altaïr head of the Order. I did that because if an organization is as old as the Order supposedly is at that time, they weren't going to make some punk 25 year old who they all hated a few months earlier the leader. He also knows jackshit about the internal politics of the organization, he'd be ousted immediately. Hence the OC Baqir who is an adult who can take over until everyone forgets how much of an idiot Altaïr was when he was young.

I'm going entirely off my own headcanons for what training Desmond received as a kid because there was not a lot of info in canon. I'm just really sure they didn't teach him how to use a rapier or anything like that as they're obsolete weapons and went from there.

Hope you enjoyed.


	3. Chapter 3

I just want to be clear that I'm not going to really follow the canon of any of the side games. I think that they have a lot of story problems and don't necessarily jive well with the main games.

* * *

"Does everyone really need to be here for this?" Desmond asked

"We will be working as a group. It's best we get to know each other sooner rather than later," Malik answered.

"What about him?" Desmond asked, pointing to Altaïr. "Isn't he supposed to be on bed rest?"

"I'm sitting down," Altaïr said, and he was. Desmond was pretty sure that the medical staff from the infirmary would not consider the fence that marked Rauf's training ground a suitable chair, though.

"Worried you'll be embarrassed?" Ezio asked, sticking to the common Arabic. He'd volunteered to train Desmond so he stood on the other side of the ring doing what passed for Renaissance era stretches.

"Yes," Desmond said. "Did you miss the part where I said the majority of my work in the past four months has been entirely in my head? I've been laying in a bed."

"It's training. I will be teaching you, not embarrassing you."

"Relax," Connor added in English.

Desmond glared at him. "I feel like I've just had three different ancestors called down upon me to tell me exactly how I've fucked up all my training. Relaxing will not happen."

"You have memories of ours we'd rather have not shared. Consider this repayment then."

Desmond rolled his eyes. Rebecca always said Connor was the nice one out of his ancestors, but that was not true at all. None of them are nice. "Have you considered that I'd rather not have seen them either?"

"Ready?" Ezio asked, moving into a ready stance with the wooden sword Malik had retrieved for them to practice with.

"Yes," Desmond said reluctantly as he grabbed the wooden sword he was somehow supposed to use to fend off a Master Assassin. Their bout only lasted a few minutes, and it went every bit as poorly as Desmond had expected it to.

"What are you doing?" Ezio asked. "It is a sword, not a blunt weapon."

"Yes, but I have experience with blunt weapons."

"If you do not use a sword, why would you use a blunt weapon?"

"People don't regularly wear swords. It's frowned upon. Blunt weapons, however, can be made out of anything on hand."

"So you go in weaponless?"

"No, but there are more blunt weapons in this world than swords."

Ezio sighed, aggravated. "What are they teaching you in the future?"

"That swords are very dumb," Desmond muttered under his breath in English. His ancestors were a lot less easy to deal with when he wasn't being them.

"Arguing will get us nowhere," Malik said. "Desmond, you need to stop running away from his attacks and only defending. When you counter, attack again. Your footwork is strange, but it's certainly there. Trust it. You do not carry some blunt weapon picked up at random. It is carved and weighted to mimic a sword. Use it like one."

Desmond nodded but ground his teeth. He had not trained in years. It grated against him the same as it had when he had been a teenager. He had thought he had outgrown the reaction. He adjusted his grip on the wooden sword, trying to remind himself that it is a sword and not a baton.

"Ready?" Ezio asked again.

"Yes," Desmond said, feeling slightly more assured of himself. He found Altaïr's memories of training more easily, remember the weight and the feel of the training swords from long, hot days under Rauf's tutelage. Altaïr never hesitated, sure in himself and what his body was capable of. Desmond hesitates before every swing, doubt in every cell of his body.

"Better," Ezio said as he ended the bout.

Desmond nodded. He stood close enough to the fence to hear Malik tell Altaïr, "He moves almost like you."

"I had noticed," Altaïr responded.

Desmond couldn't tell if he thought it was a bad thing or not. It was a lot easier to figure that all out when he was in his head. Altaïr sounded way more neutral from the outside.

Desmond only made it another hour before giving up. "Uncle," he said in English before lying down in the dirt which he knew for a fact many, many people had spit on.

"Are you alright?" Ezio asked.

"No, do I look okay to you?" Desmond asked before having to suck in air again. He was completely winded, sweaty absolutely everywhere, and his arms burned. He had known he was out of shape, but damn.

"Honestly?" Ezio asked. "No. Malik, would you be able to fetch Desmond some water?"

"With pleasure," Malik said in a tone that suggested that it would be done without any pleasure.

Desmond caught Altaïr smirking as Malik left to fetch some water. At least Desmond knew from Altaïr that the water from Masyaf wouldn't kill him.

"You seem to be having quite a bit of trouble," Ezio said, taking a position so that the sun wouldn't shine right on Desmond's face.

"I told you I'd been in basically a bed for four months. Of course, I'm out of shape," Desmond told him. "I'm not used to this damn heat either. It's late summer here, but I just came from the start of winter."

"Was it that much of a problem in the animus?" Altaïr asked.

"No, you didn't mind the heat because you were used to it, and outside of your memories, there wasn't really a temperature."

"I thought you said the animus was a bed," Ezio said, and Altaïr nodded in agreement.

"It is in the physical realm, but to learn your memories, it put my consciousness in a," Desmond paused trying to find a good way of explaining it in old words. "A fake space, like a training room. So it would look like Masyaf, but it didn't have any heat, or smell, or any people."

"It sounds unpleasant," Altaïr said.

"Yeah, if you're not used to it."

Malik returned with a jug of water as well as cups for them all. "Here you are."

Desmond groaned as he forced himself back to his feet. He poured himself a cup and started drinking.

"Ah, hot dirt water," Desmond said in English. He had noticed immediately the day before that the water had tasted very different from the water he was used to in the future. It's not like Masyaf had metal city plumbing or fluoride or whatever else the US treated its water with.

"Could you please stop calling it that?" Connor asked.

"It's what it tastes like," Desmond said.

"I know, but you don't need to say it."

"I don't know that I agree with that."

Connor gave him a flat look.

"So, Desmond," Ezio said in Arabic as he dropped his hand onto Desmond's shoulder, making him jump, "How's your hand to hand combat?"

"It could almost qualify as good if I weren't out of shape," he answered, returning to Arabic.

"So hand to hand combat is still used in the future," Malik said. "That's good to know."

"People still have hands in the future," Desmond said, and Altaïr smirks. "Actually, I probably know more types of hand to hand combat than any one of you do."

"How so?" Ezio asked.

"You were all taught a sort of basic style passed down through the Order. By my time, however, we'd decided to incorporate other fighting styles and then I picked up a few more on my own. I wouldn't say I'm a master at any one of the styles, but it gives me options."

"What types?" Malik asked.

"Karate, various kung fu styles, jeet kun do which is kind of kung fu anyways, taekwando, judo, krav maga, boxing," he listed then shrugged. "You could say I'm a mixed martial artist, except I didn't actually do that."

"I'm not familiar with any of those," Malik said, looking to Altaïr, but Altaïr only shrugged.

"I've not heard of them either," Ezio said.

"A lot of them don't originate from this area, and some of them won't exist for another few centuries," Desmond explained. Desmond wouldn't call his collected knowledge of martial arts a style. It was more a hodge podge of bits and pieces he could pull from as it suited him. "I'm only telling you so that you know I'll fight differently."

"Let's see it then," Ezio said, excited. Desmond's not surprised to see him excited at the prospect of learning some new forms. Ezio was perhaps the most interested in learning new styles out of all of the ancestors he'd visited in the animus.

"Alright," Desmond said, shifting in a deceptive defensive stance. He looked relaxed, but he was prepared to react to whatever strike came for him.

Their bout started, and Desmond's hypothesis that leg strikes and other kicking attacks would be effective proved accurate. It wasn't as if his ancestors didn't use their legs in combat, but they certainly never utilized high strikes to the chest or targeted ones at the knees or other vulnerable areas. Ezio struggled to block them, but he moved far quicker than Desmond could, easily dodging his attacks. Desmond was reluctant to use any grappling strikes as he knew Ezio wore armor and with his superior strength could easily break his hold even if he didn't know the counter techniques. He could tell the moment Ezio's calculations of his ability measured above his actual skill when Ezio landed a devastating punch to his sternum that left him totally winded.

Desmond gasped like a fish, hugging his hands to his chest, and Ezio immediately dropped out of his fighting stance.

"Forgive me, Desmond," Ezio said. "I thought you would be able to dodge it."

"I'm good," Desmond rasped out when he finally got in enough air to. "I'm just winded."

"It's certainly an interesting form of fighting," Malik added. "I think we've punished Desmond enough for one day, don't you agree?"

"Yes, I think that's enough combat assessment," Ezio agreed.

"Great," Desmond said, his breath almost back to normal. He massaged his chest as he made his way over to the fence to lean against. "Does that make it lunch time?"

Ezio laughed. "I agree with Desmond. We should eat."

Desmond had always been a fan of middle eastern food after leaving the farm, but modern American versions of the food were definitely very different than what was served to the Masyaf Assassins. Ezio didn't seem to mind the food, but Connor certainly struggled to eat it. Desmond could hardly blame him. It was completely different from the food he was used to eating in North America. He checked everything over before attempting to eat it, and even then, he seemed like he was never quite sure of the taste.

"How are you finding the food?" he asked.

"It's…strange," he said.

"We live in a world before Columbus sailed and discovered the 'New World', your world. There's a lot of plants you're familiar with that no one here has ever seen and vice versa," Desmond explained. "And all the new food I've seen you eat is European, not this kind of stuff."

Connor sighed. "Ezio doesn't seem to mind."

"Yeah, Ezio comes to this area later in his life, and he was pretty into the food. Personally, I think all this food's a little weird because we don't do food like this in the future anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"We use a lot of preservatives. Not a whole lot is really fresh like this," he said and shrugged.

"Salty then," Connor said, nodding like he understood.

Desmond gave out a short laugh. "Not really. More like freezing and canning and sealing."

"I suppose a lot more would be possible with your technology."

"Yeah. Don't worry about the food too much, and you'll need the energy. The worst thing that can happen is we both get the shits, but it'll pass," Desmond said then added. "I mean, I'm just banking on us not carrying any dangerous diseases that just wipes out everyone before we even get a chance to do any good."

"Diseases?" Connor asked, suddenly looking very concerned.

"Yeah, like you know what happened after all the Europeans showed up. Well, we know a lot more medically speaking about how that all happened. See, diseases are organisms like animals and plants. They grow and adapt same as we do. Europe and the Americas had different diseases due to geographical isolation, and so the European diseases wiped out a lot of people because you didn't know how to treat them and your immune systems had never experienced them. Now, we're dealing with not only with geographical isolation, but, like, time isolation. I could be unknowingly caring diseases that are hundreds of generations more evolved than what people's immune systems now and here can take. I mean, in my time, we have super bugs. Diseases that are resistant to all of our medicines. It's not like I went and got disinfected before I came here."

"So what do we do if we have brought something back?" Connor asked, setting aside his food.

"There's not much we can do. It's not like any of us are doctors. We basically just have to see what happens."

"This is more complicated than I ever imagined it could be."

"You said it."

"What's the plan for this afternoon?" Ezio asked in Arabic after sensing that Connor and Desmond had finished their conversation.

"We have to get you measured for your robes then I would like to discuss our plan of action," Malik answered.

Altaïr sighed. Desmond was with him. Altaïr, from what Desmond knew of his memories, had never been one for team missions precisely because of the planning sessions before hand. He found it much easier to plan on his own, and to his credit, he was usually faster at it than an entire team. Desmond just wasn't looking forward to the coming one because it will likely be him and Malik butting heads, and Desmond will lose.

They finish their meals and head over to Masyaf's tailor; an older man who knew the Order's secrets and was plenty skilled with needle and thread. He worked with several women in the surrounding town to outfit the Order's men. Desmond taught Connor more Arabic while Ezio had an argument with the tailor. Afterward, Malik guided them back into the library to a secluded table where they could plan.

"You miss the craziest things when you time travel," Desmond said as he sat down, wishing they could use a projector and powerpoints. Or at least a white board and some dry erase markers. He wasn't even sure blackboards and chalk were a thing. He can't remember Altaïr ever using them.

Malik scowled at him. "We need to focus on now. You have told us some of the details regarding the Templars and the Order in this time, but there are still gaps. We need to decide which ones need to be filled."

"Our priority should be getting the Piece of Eden on Cyprus," Desmond said. "But I don't know exactly where it is, and the Templars have a head start on us even if they are currently regrouping."

"Do the Templars know where it is at this time?" Ezio asked.

"No, that is the only reason they don't find it for a few hundred years," Desmond said. "But they have abandoned Acre for the moment to regroup on Cyprus. While they are there, they will search for the Piece of Eden. I think it would be best if we avoid attacking them and steal the Piece of Eden out from under them."

"Why?" Altaïr asked. "From your story, they will be a formidable force against us in the future. They are weakened now. Why not continue to strike at them? We can destroy them and take the Piece of Eden."

"That is what you did the first time. You did not succeed in finding the Piece of Eden in Cyprus, instead you used Al Mualim's Apple as a weapon while there. Quite frankly, it was a mess. It took two years for the Assassins to liberate the island from Templar control. I do not know how much time we have. Even if liberating Cyprus was a priority, we do not have the man power and I would rather Ezio plan the mission as he has a decade of experience over you in these matters."

"So we do nothing?" Altaïr asked, tone sharp.

Malik added, "It may have been a mess when Altaïr worked on his own before, but I doubt it will be so with more people. Especially if Ezio has the experience you claim he does."

Ezio huffed, offended his experience was being put into question.

"May I remind you," Malik said sternly. "That our assignment was not only the Piece of Eden. It was the Templars as well."

"Very well," Desmond said, holding up his hands in a placating manner. "Forgive me. In my time, to strike at the leaders in such a manner would be suicide. We are like rats in a maze trying to scramble over the walls, too desperate to even think of who put us in such a dire place. Sneaking in and stealing resources from beneath their noses was the most we could do. I only have an idea of the men Altaïr targeted when he originally went to Cyprus as I did not see it in the animus. If you wish to have better information, we'll need a turncoat."

Altaïr scoffed. "What Templar would work with us?"

Desmond could see Ezio smirking out of the corner of his eye. He already knew exactly who Desmond was thinking of. Still, Desmond shrugged like it was totally casual. "I don't see why it would be such a problem. You had one the first time."

Malik leaned in, looking interested.

"You know who?" Altaïr asked, sounding suspicious.

"Yes, you've met them already."

"Just tell the man's name, Desmond," he asked, scowling.

"Ah," Desmond said, holding in the moment to prepare himself for Altaïr's reaction. "It's a woman."

Altaïr made the most offended face in existence, and Ezio cracked up upon seeing it which only worsened his mood. Connor seemed startled by the sudden laughter, but Malik ran a hand over his face. Desmond had to work very hard not to laugh as well.

"The sorceress?" Altaïr asked.

Desmond thought that was an interesting way of saying that Altaïr had been so focused on his mission he'd completely missed that she had boobs. "Wearing a man's clothes does not make one a sorceress."

Ezio finally calmed down and stopped laughing. "I believe she will be an excellent addition to the group."

"You'd have worked with her on your own remember," Desmond pointed out. "Perhaps this way you can make it a less contentious second meeting."

"Why would I ever want to be amenable to a Templar?" Altaïr asked, grouchy. "Even if she will apparently join us."

Ezio laughed again, drawing a glare from Altaïr. He switched to Italian to tell Desmond, "He has no idea at all!"

"Please don't aggravate him," Desmond said. "I need him to marry her and have children if I want to be born in the future."

"I don't think I can do much at all to sway him. He obviously loved her deeply. That is entirely between her and him," Ezio said, and while Desmond agreed with him the way he put it was definitely Italian romantics at work.

"If you're all finished with our favorite pastime of mocking Altaïr," Malik said. "I suppose this turncoat Altaïr knows will be our first priority if we wish to succeed in Cyprus."

"I don't know her," Altaïr argued.

"She'll be in Acre," Desmond said. "For at least the next month."

"Good, that means we will still have time for your training and getting you clothes," Malik said, and Desmond winced. "And we'll have to see if we can help Connor with his Arabic. Does he know much of the region?"

Connor looked back and forth between Malik and Desmond at the sound of his name.

"No, but I can take time to start teaching him that in addition to the Arabic."

"Good, then that will be the plan for the time being. Meeting adjourned."

Altaïr stood first, leaving immediately without another word. Malik rolled his eyes and followed after him, and Desmond was sure he wanted the full story.

"What is he so upset about?" Connor asked. "And why was Ezio laughing?"

"We have to get a Templar to change sides and join us so we can have more information on Cyprus. He's unhappy because the Templar we've picked is a woman who has tricked him already," Desmond said. "Ezio found it funny because we've ready his codex. The Templar that we'll be working with is going to become Altaïr's wife."

Connor nodded. "I can see the humor in that. I wish I'd known that it would be possible to change sides earlier in my life."

Desmond sighed. "The Templars and Assassins of this time are not the Templars and Assassins of your time. Also, Maria Thorpe is not well liked among the Templars. She never truly agreed with them. She only joined to leave England."

"I see," Connor said. "You and Malik also said something about me."

"Yes, we wanted to work on your Arabic some more."

"I'm ready," Connor said.

"Alright, then let's go find a map and we can start doing geography in Arabic," Desmond said then switched to Italian. "Ezio, would you like to help me teach Connor?"

"Certainly," Ezio said with a nod.

"Okay," Desmond said, getting up from the table. "Let's go get that map then."

* * *

So I think there will be one last prep chapter before they start on their mission. I need to set up a few more things before they can really go at it. At least I'm pretty much past the part where Desmond has to keep explaining everything to everyone.

I got in a little bit of my headcanons regarding Desmond's prior training, but I have a few more to add and expand upon in future chapters. The more I go through with this fic the more excited I am about it, but also the more worried I'll make a mess of it because that's what time travel stories usually get you.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed.


	4. Chapter 4

Guess who got back into Assassin's Creed?

In any case, a lot has changed since I last updated. I used to feel that this project was too big, and I don't feel that way any more which makes it a lot easier to write. Had a lot to do with getting more experience as a writer. I think the bigger issue in the long term is keeping up my interest in Assassin's Creed because there's not a lot of fic to my taste which means I look to other fandoms and then write for those other fandoms instead.

In any case, I hope you enjoy that I write longer chapters now as this is about 3k longer than any of the previous chapters.

* * *

Desmond woke while it was still dark out. He fished his phone out and checked the time before remembering that his phone had no idea what time it actually was and thought it was midday on December 24th 2012. After mentally calling himself a fool for trying to check his phone, he then realized how weird it was that his phone was still running. He hadn't charged it in days, but it was still near full power. He decided that would be a problem for another time and put his phone away.

Desmond laid in bed for another few minutes before deciding that he wouldn't be falling back asleep. His internal clock was well and truly messed up, but he might as well take advantage of being up really early. He slipped out of bed and put on his pants and shoes as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake his ancestors. Malik had placed them together in the castle's barracks as that was about to be the only space they would have left once nearly all of the Assassins returned to Masyaf.

Thankfully, neither Connor or Ezio woke when he snuck out of the room. Outside, he felt a little more normal. There was plenty of moonlight to see by and he could hear nocturnal insects making plenty of noise. He could almost pretend he was in his own time, just out in the wilderness. He stretches for a few minutes before starting on a run around the compound. It was weird to be running around in silence when he'd normally be wearing headphones and listening to a work out playlist.

When the first rays of sunlight appear, he heads back into the barracks. He feels winded just from his run which was really more of a slow jog. He just keeps being shown again and again how out of shape he is. His nightly escapades and very few missions definitely weren't enough to keep him on top of things.

"Morning," Connor said as he reentered their room. Both he and Ezio were up and in the process of getting dressed for the day.

"What had you up so early?" Ezio asked, in Italian as their hosts weren't with them.

"Just woke up," he said, heading towards his bed so he could finish dressing. It would take him far less time to dress than his ancestors as he had far fewer layers to wear and zippers rather than buttons.

"Can I ask you something?" Connor asked.

Desmond bites down on telling him he already did. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Your tattoo," he said, gesturing to Desmond's exposed arm now that he wore only a t-shirt instead of covering it with his hoodie. "What does it mean?"

"Doesn't mean anything other than I wanted one and had the money for it," he said, shrugging. He had the extremely stylized face on his forearm, and the head of an eagle poked out from underneath his shirt sleeve, diving downward over the curve of his shoulder towards his elbow. In retrospect, the eagle seemed highly symbolic and in response to his lineage, but at 22 he had just wanted something cool with wings. Its wings were still hidden by his shirt, one spread out along his collarbone and the other stretching back over his shoulder blade.

Connor looked disappointed in that news, but frivolous tattoos weren't something done in his time and culture. Ezio glanced at the tattoo, but it didn't seem to impress him any.

"Ready for breakfast?" Ezio asked, finished dressing and moving for the door.

"Yeah, let's go."

Malik took all three newcomers back to the tailor while Altaïr was forced to return to the infirmary to finally be deemed that he was in good health. Desmond wondered at how the man could get out so many uniforms even if he had multiple people to help them. Then, as the tailor handed them out, he'd explained he only had to make one uniform. They already had extra uniforms on hand for the 6th rank, where Malik had decided to place Desmond for the moment, as many men passed through that rank, and a completed Master Assassin uniform intended for whoever would be promoted next which was given to Ezio. Another Master Assassin uniform, however, had to be created for Connor as they didn't have one already prepared and he had a taller, broader build than many of the men in Masyaf.

Desmond felt wrong in the uniform. Altaïr had spent so little time in each rank, and it only got a little better after putting on the proper boots and armor and weapons to complete the uniform. It was quickly decided that the weapons from Desmond, Ezio, and Connor's time were to be locked away in the armory so as to not give themselves away or lose them to the enemy. Desmond was still tempted to slip a few items underneath the folds of his uniform, and he was certain that Connor and Ezio strongly considered doing the same. Ultimately, none of them did.

Ezio turned to Desmond with a grin, "Let's get you back to the training ground. I still have to teach you to be comfortable with a sword."

"Great," Desmond said sarcastically.

At least, he had less people watching him this time. Altaïr had yet to appear from the infirmary, Malik had to speak with another Dai concerning logistics, and Connor went a few paces away to practice with the throwing knives with the targets set off to the side. Ezio also didn't need to test him anymore.

"Your head knows the moves as far as I can tell, but your body doesn't," Ezio said. "You think too hard, and that makes you slow. We're going to practice until you don't have to think anymore."

"Alright," he said, taking up a defensive stance.

Ezio would demonstrate the move, and Desmond would practice it a dozen or so times. Once he'd gone through all of them, and Desmond did know that that was all the techniques Ezio had learned by that point, it turned into a game of Simon says. Ezio would call out the name of a move, trying to get him to respond automatically. If he hesitated or got it wrong, Ezio would make him practice the move again.

"You've made progress," Ezio said when they broke for water. "Clearly you did pick something up from us if you haven't been using the blade before this."

Desmond nodded and drank because he didn't want to explain that it still felt more like Altaïr doing it than himself.

Before they can start again, Altaïr and Malik found them in the courtyard. "I was speaking with Altaïr and we realized we'd missed something yesterday," Malik said, and Desmond groans internally at what it's going to be.

"We never covered free-running," Altaïr said.

"I can do it," Desmond assured them. "Could do it before I got into the animus, too. It's probably a little different from how you all do it, though."

"And why is that?" Malik asked.

"The buildings are different in my time," he explained. He wasn't going to get into the popularity of parkour which was what really had changed his free-running style in that he actually got some style.

"In what way?" Malik asked, forever unimpressed by future times.

"They're much taller, and they're made of a lot more metal and glass. You have to get more creative when everything is sheer," he answered with a shrug.

"Why would you make buildings out of metal and glass?" Ezio asked. "What's wrong with brick?"

"Metal's better when you start going over five stories tall."

"What do you need buildings that big for?" Malik asked.

"To fit more things in. You can't expand outwards forever so you have to start going upwards."

None of his ancestors look convinced at the explanation, and Desmond is reminded all over again just how much of a game changer the industrial revolution was. Connor was the closest to it, and even he was still decades from when it really kicked off.

"What's going on?" Connor asked, making his way into the conversation after noticing them all gathered.

"We're going to go free-running," Desmond told him.

Connor grinned. "It will be fun."

Malik forced them out of the fortress grounds and into the village to practice. Ezio took lead as Altaïr and Connor were still recovering from injuries, and Desmond was being judged. With such short and similar buildings, Desmond didn't have room to show off much creativity, but he was finally able to prove to his ancestor he had some skills.

"At least now we know you can keep up," Ezio teased him.

"Yes, there's one area where I live up to the family legacy," Desmond said.

"This is good," Altaïr said. "It leaves more time for planning. Even if you say we'll have a turncoat we should still gather all you know of the Templars to leave for the brotherhood in case anything should happen."

"Yes, we may even return to our own times unexpectedly," Ezio agreed. "We should also teach Connor more Arabic so we don't have you translating all the time."

"What's he saying about me?" Connor asked.

"That you should learn Arabic," Desmond answered.

"I'm doing my best," he said wryly.

A schedule developed quickly after that. The mornings became dedicated to Desmond's physical training, mostly under Ezio's tutelage. Malik and Altaïr often had to meet with the Dai and help settle the returning Assassins that trickled in each day. Altaïr also had to be trained on the duties of a Dai now that his promotion had been made official. The afternoons were spent in the library teaching Connor Arabic and the geography and the current status of the war with the Crusaders to both Connor and Ezio. Ezio had far more familiarity than Connor, but he had the rather loose and spun in the Europeans' favor version of the history.

"I don't understand the point of any of this," Connor said. "Why does no one just allow pilgrims access to the holy sites that matter to them? Why must the Christians and Muslims fight for access rather than just allowing access and keeping Jerusalem neutral?"

"Power and prestige," Desmond said with a sigh. "How can you claim your religion is true if you do not control your holy ground? Not to mention how everyone hates the Jewish people. Jerusalem is also their holy city."

"Why are they so obsessed with converting people?" he asked. "I thought it was just the Europeans, but it's not apparently."

"Power and prestige. It's how the whole king things work. You are king because god made you so. If your subjects don't believe in your god, how are you their king? What makes you so? Same thing for the Muslims. People won't follow you if they don't share your religion, and the more followers you have, the more powerful you are."

Connor sighed like all of this was very trying. To him, it was. He had faith, a spirituality, but it wasn't anything like monotheistic organized religion. It certainly wasn't tied to any holy ground to fight upon or requisite to the power of their leaders.

"But mostly it's the Christian Byzantines fighting the Muslim Turks that started it. Jerusalem was an excuse to get Christian European powers, namely the Pope, to send military to support the Byzantines. In that sense, it's just political. Religion is nothing more than a means of division and alliance."

"That is more understandable though no more moral," Connor said. He studied the map for a moment longer then asked, "In your time, is there peace here?"

"Nope, absolutely not," he said, shaking his head. "There are different states in my time, but the area we're in now in my time is called Syria and in a civil war. Jerusalem exists in a state called Israel which isn't currently at war, but it was basically made by a bunch of Christians giving Muslim land to Jewish people so it's very tense. I think the only reason it isn't at war is because of the backing it gets from the United States of America, the country the colonies of your time are building."

"The country Washington is building is strong enough to create peace through fear?"

"It definitely was not Washington that made that happen," Desmond said with a sigh. "I'm starting to think that just collecting Pieces of Eden may not be enough. It'll cut down on conflict, but I don't think all of it. Not enough of it anyways."

"What more could we do? We are Assassins, not political leaders."

"I know, but sitting back and doing nothing won't help us. Why not affect things so that we may stay our blades in the future?"

"I understand the desire, but I do not know the means."

Desmond took a deep breath in and let it out. "We have time for that later. Right now, let's get back to Arabic."

Altaïr frequently helped Desmond with teaching the language though he just as often derailed the Arabic lessons with trying to understand the differences between the middle English he knew and the modern English Connor and Desmond spoke.

"I think he knows more English now than I know Arabic," Connor complained after giving up on trying to pronounce a few words correctly.

"I heard that," Altaïr said in modern English.

"Hear it in Kanien'keha," Connor retorted in his native language then switched back to English. "How are you getting this so quickly?"

Altaïr shrugged. "It is easier with each language."

Desmond spent the time after dinner writing by candlelight to get all of the information he knew about the Templars down. Malik and Connor typically joined him. Malik had paperwork to complete as a Dai leaving an old post for a new one while Connor continued to look over maps of the region and of Acre.

Desmond found writing with a reed pen and dipping in ink and using Arabic characters was torture. Altaïr obviously knew how to read and write in Arabic as well as a few other language to send written messages as necessary. Desmond technically knew it from the animus bleed, but it was much more difficult skill to reach. Much of the time Altaïr spent reading or writing had been skipped over. It was like his brain knew what needed to be written, but no idea how. Desmond's hand was clumsy with the unfamiliar writing tool and characters.

He also completely smeared the ink several times, as Arabic is written in the reverse direction of English, smashed the nib of the pen twice, and accidentally knocked over the ink pot once on the first night. Malik had expressed serious doubt over his ability to write after that. Then Desmond gave up on the reed pen and gotten something out of his bag in the armory to write with. All he had was a sharpie, of course. It worked great in the modern world to be able to write on whatever available including skin if that's all you had. Less great on 12th century paper as the sharpie bled immensely.

"Who is going to be able to read that?" Malik asked, eying the sharpie with suspicion after noticing what Desmond had been writing.

"It is the best I have. It's more legible than using the reed pen," he argues, pointing to his paper from the night before. "I won't write on the back to make it easier."

"Paper isn't free, you know."

"Right," Desmond said. It was difficult to remember given the absolute proliferation of paper everywhere in his time. While still not free, it was certainly very affordable.

Towards the end of the week, Malik began assembling supplies for the mission. It led to them gathering in the armory to discuss the weapons and armor they had stored away, to reconsider what items might be useful in their mission.

"The major benefit is obviously that these are what is most comfortable for you," Malik said, looking at the spread out they had arranged. "But the major drawback is that they will make you noticeable. I believe Ezio's is the most recognizable due to its similarity to what the Crusaders wear and use."

"It will not suit these clothes and the armor with it should be sufficient," Ezio says then turns to Connor and Desmond. "Do you truly not wear armor?"

"No, I don't," Connor said in Arabic. It was typical of all men in his time and region not to wear armor.

"I do," Desmond said, picking his way over to his hoodie. They, meaning he and Rebecca, had made adjustments to it to add a soft bulletproof vest to its interior without making it look too odd. He held it up to his ancestors. "This stops this from killing me."

He then picked up the semi-automatic pistol he had stolen from Abstergo during his last infiltration for just in case purposes.

"And what does that do?" Malik asked, unimpressed.

"It's like a bow and arrow, but faster and more powerful. I don't have to reload each time I shoot, but I only have ten bullets and no way to get or make more," Desmond explained before setting it down and gesturing to Connor's pistol. "Connor also has a much older version that takes forever to load."

"I have one as well," Ezio added, adjusting his sleeve to show the modification to his hidden blade.

"And it's a miracle you haven't blown your own hand off and that you can hit anybody with that," Desmond said, standing up. "There isn't even rifling."

"What is rifling?" Ezio asked.

"Grooves in the barrel that make the bullet spin. It gives it better aim," he said, moving back to his original spot. "If we're taking a gun which I'm not sure we should, we're taking mine. We should definitely get that gun off Ezio."

"Why? It comes in handy," Ezio complained, pulling the hand with the gun back towards himself.

"Hold on," Malik said, holding up his hand. "Why should we bring any gun at all? How could they improve our ability to do the mission?"

"They are a useful projectile weapon," Ezio said. "They are smaller and easier to disguise, even more so now in a time where people are unfamiliar with them."

"But they are not subtle. These style of guns are completely unsuited for assassination. I carry mine as a last resort. They are incredibly loud weapons and using one could incite a panic, especially as people are unfamiliar with them and likely would assume a cannon fired," Desmond pointed out.

"How would you carry it if you were to take it?" Altaïr asked.

"Concealed, under my clothes" Desmond said. "I'd want it only as a last resort."

Altaïr nodded, and Malik sighed. "Fine, only Desmond's gun then," Malik said. "Even if it sounds like more trouble than it's worth."

Ezio sighed. "I'll figure out how to get the gun off."

He took a seat and began to examine the gun attachment. After a moment, there was a click and he was able to pull the gun free. He set it aside, and they continued on.

Ezio's bladed weapons were quickly dismissed as he could use the blades the Order used without any issue in addition to them being less noticeable. Connor had a hunting knife, but it was also set aside. The only blade Desmond had aside from his hidden ones was a swiss army knife which none of his ancestors or Malik seemed to find that useful. Desmond thought Connor's bow and arrow would have been useful, but he had not been wearing it when he'd traveled back in time so it was of little consequence.

Desmond had to help mediate a long argument between Malik and Connor over his rope darts as Connor's Arabic was not up to snuff yet. Desmond knew how useful rope darts could be, but Malik had a good point that they would typically not be in terrain that was best suited for them. Eventually, they decided Connor could keep a couple of them. Then they had a second argument over the tomahawk, where Malik's complaints were its lack of versatility and its distinctive look. He also had no sympathy for it being the traditional weapon of Connor's people. Connor eventually sighed and set it aside.

Once they had finished, Altaïr asked, "I've been meaning to ask, your hidden blades, who changed them? Is taking a finger no longer a sign of commitment to the Order and your readiness for the blade?"

"You did," Ezio said as if it were obvious, and Desmond flinched. He would have said it differently.

Malik raised an eyebrow at that, not seeming to fully believe him. "Maybe you are a heretic after all, Altaïr."

Altaïr scowled at Malik then turned back to Ezio. "That makes no sense. I have no authority or desire to change the blade."

"Not yet, but you will," Ezio said with a smile.

Desmond rolled his eyes at Ezio channeling mysterious mentor rather than actually explaining anything to Altaïr. "What he means is, later in your life after becoming the leader of the Order you write out a codex with for future generations with your guiding philosophies, new techniques, and new designs for weapons and armor."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Malik said. "He's never spared a thought for philosophy when it could be spent on fighting."

Altaïr doesn't disagree, instead he watched Desmond like he was trying to find a hint of him lying.

"That's definitely not true," Desmond said, having the benefit of actually knowing what Altaïr thinks. He certainly considered himself a man of action, but he did not lack for intelligence.

Malik tilted his head. "I suppose the future cannot bring stranger changes than those that have been wrought over the last few months. I have underestimated him before."

"I think you have mistaken my part in the order in the future," Altaïr said, shaking his head. "I do not think I wrote that codex."

Desmond sighed for while Altaïr had changed and knew he'd done so, he'd not changed his opinion of himself, of who and what he was.

Ezio, however, gave Altaïr a look. "Of course, such an old document a few centuries old, there is no way to tell for sure who the author was. It was only known as Altaïr's Codex, had your name on it, a secret code left for those with your same ability to see, and a portrait of your wife, but otherwise, yes, there was truly no way to know who wrote it."

Altaïr started at the mention of a wife, before quickly feigning nonchalance. Desmond knew of Adha and her death, of course, having been inside Altaïr's mind, but not very much else. So much time had been skipped with Altaïr compared to his time with Ezio and Connor, so focused on the major events when Altaïr worked and kept his focus solely on his mission.

Malik looked unconvinced at Ezio's assertion of who the Codex was written by. "That makes it less likely to be his. What woman would take him?"

"Malik," Altaïr says warningly though without much venom.

"I'm his direct descendant. He's going to have a child at some point or I would not exist," Desmond pointed out. "Which I have no desire to discuss."

Malik sighed. "In any case, is that it for the weapons? Are we agreed upon what we're taking?"

"Yes," Ezio said first. Everyone else agreed with Connor reluctantly agreeing last.

The rest of the packing occurred more individually with everyone packing their own bags for the journey as it takes nearly a week to travel from Masyaf to Acre on horseback. It's a little crazy in Desmond's mind because a week on his motorcycle could get him from one coast to the other with time to see the sights on the way. If there weren't a war making boarder crossings difficult, the trip from Masyaf to Acre would take only a few hours in a car, easily done in a single afternoon. Desmond hasn't traveled so many days consecutively since his first year off the farm when he floated around and hitchhiked before finally settling in New York.

"There's one last thing I want to say before we leave tomorrow," Desmond announced after they had finished with dinner and going over the last details of planning the trip with four assassins and a Dai when they normally traveled alone. "I should have said it earlier, but I'll say it now. I apologize for looking into your memories and invading your privacy in such a manner. You were dead when I did it, and I've explained to you why it was done, but here and now, you are not dead, and it's likely much more than you would like me to know of you. Except for Malik, I didn't see your memories so I'm not sorry."

"And I am grateful for it," Malik said.

"I accept your apology, but I don't think it was necessary. I did learn you were watching me somehow eventually," Ezio said, shrugging. Desmond definitely thought it helped that he was completely shameless.

Desmond then repeated his apology in English to Connor, who nodded but otherwise said nothing of whether he accepted it or not. If Desmond had to guess, Connor wasn't totally okay with it, but did see its usefulness and therefore would rather it be forgotten instead of hashing out any uncomfortableness.

"How much did you see exactly?" Altaïr asked. "You told us what you were looking for in our memories, and why, but not how much you really saw."

Desmond sighed. "For Ezio? A considerable amount. Like I said, initially we wanted to use him for training, but he came into contact with a number of Pieces of Eden over his lifetime. I've seen a section of his life he hasn't even lived yet. For you? Only this summer, since Solomon's Temple. Even then, much of it was skipped such as time spent traveling. The Templars only gave me a week to search through your memories."

Altaïr frowned, taking in the information.

"That seems a little excessive," Ezio said, now looking marginally concerned with how much Desmond had seen of him.

"Well, I was in a coma for a time and the only way to get out was through even more of your memories," he said with a shrug. "I did skip over many years and decades. It would have taken far too long to cover absolutely everything."

"Strange to think I have been watched these past few months," Altaïr mused.

"Not exactly," Desmond said with a sigh, but didn't get into it. No one who hadn't been in an animus really got it. He had still experienced the memories without express permission and breached his ancestor's privacy.

Altaïr tilted his head, studying Desmond for a moment. Then he said, "I will not hold it against you when it was your relationship to me that put you in jeopardy in the place."

Desmond nodded, pretty certain that was the best he would get out of the situation.

"Rest well," Malik told them before they split off for bed. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

Very early in the morning before they were set to leave, Malik decided to take a moment to look over the information Desmond had written down to leave for the order. He quietly read through the papers then spun around to Desmond, and harshly asked, "What is this?"

"A report," Desmond answered, only slightly deadpan about it because he didn't know what part of the report Malik was referring to.

Malik glared at him. "The first half maybe, all accurate to what you told us previously, but this back half? What is it?"

"Information for what to do to help improve the future and prevent the sun from killing everyone."

"You do know we already fight against slavers, correct?" Malik asked, holding up a page Desmond had written about stopping African slave trade specifically.

"It is important, and more must be done. The fate of a continent and its descendants rests on ending the trading of African slaves before it gets worse. They may provide a great boon to our overall mission without the limitations of bondage. Even if they do not, they are still deserving of better lives and futures than they are likely to experience should nothing change. It is not enough to just kill the major slavers. More has to be done."

Malik continued to glare, but did not disagree. He then changed to another page. He read out, "Don't let Abbas touch anything he will break it, at least that's what I think it says given all the mess you put around it!"

He held up the page towards Desmond as if Desmond didn't know he had put five exclamations points on it and three underlines below it. "Altaïr does not believe in punctuation so I did my best. The exclamation points and underlines are for emphasis because it's very important."

"I assure you, he does know what punctuation is. You would know since you claim to have experienced his memories."

"I have so I know when he writes he does not use punctuation as he feels it wastes time and ink. You have seen his reports."

Malik scowled because he has seen them. Altaïr wrote clearly in a legible hand, but it did not change that his reports were essentially one very long sentence. "So now you use your English punctuation."

"Yes," Desmond said with a smile and a nod.

"And why a completely metal lock box for the Piece of Eden?" he asked, referring to another page.

"The Piece of Eden sends signals through through the air similar to sound," Desmond said, trying to be clear on the technology as Malik would want while not trusting his ability to translate and explain well. "The Templars of my time claimed that much of human technology had been based upon precursor technology. A thick metal box would prevent the signal of plenty of human devices so I hope it will do the same to the Piece of Eden. It will curb the temptation Juno spreads with it."

"I see," he said, nodding, and his anger dissipated.

Desmond, however, did not miss that Malik asked a novice to copy his report into a more legible hand for future study before leaving the library.

Saddling a horse turned out to be surprisingly daunting. The farm had been off the grid, but that did not make it low tech. While they had raised goats and chickens for food, they had not raised horses for travel, using cars and motorcycles instead. Desmond had never saddled a horse in real life before this. He relied heavily on Altaïr's memories for how to do, and everything seemed to come out alright. Getting on to the horse's back was an equally new experience. He swore the horse could feel his nervousness. It likely didn't help that Desmond felt like he was going to lose it taking a week to cover a distance of only 160 or so miles. It was such a long time to get barely anywhere.

At least he had teaching Connor more Arabic as a distraction. He could point out things along the road and describe them in Arabic to him. Ezio and Altaïr continued to help with the teaching. Ezio's own Arabic had improved even with just a week surrounded by the language, and he spoke more fluidly, made fewer grammatical errors, and his accent had toned down. Connor, however, was slowly making his way up to basic sentences, halting and slow.

"I hear more than I say," Connor said in Arabic as they paused for lunch. Desmond was inclined to believe him. Connor could understand a number of languages far better than he spoke them from other indigenous languages to European ones colonists had brought with them like French and German.

"You're making good progress," Altaïr said, speaking a shade slower than he would among native and fluent speakers. "You truly never heard the language before you arrived here?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Gonna be honest," Desmond said in English as he stretched. "I am not about sitting on a horse for so long."

Connor said, "Your English is more confusing than the Arabic."

Desmond laughed, "Yeah, I'm sure many people would say my English is terrible, but language changes."

They didn't sit to eat, standing in a loose circle instead, and gave the horses some time to rest as well. Connor's horse, like most horses he's around, bugged him the whole way through the meal, sniffing at him or bumping his head against him. Connor pet the horses head, but didn't capitulate and offer up any treats.

"What did you do to charm her?" Malik asked after a couple minutes of interaction. "She's never been one to be overly fond of her riders."

Connor shrugged. Desmond kept a smile to himself as well as several stories of Connor charming various domesticated animals. They just seemed to like him.

The afternoon continued in a similar fashion to the morning, practicing Arabic with Connor. Desmond with his Altaïr brain knew they were making good time, but it felt so incredibly slow compared to 21st century transportation. He could really go for a quick plane flight, and those were a pain in the ass with the identification requirements. No wonder the motorcycle was how the Templars found him.

The one thing he couldn't complain about was after eating dinner and settling down to camp for the night was the view. After getting kidnapped and then basically stuck underground literally to hide, laying out under a clear sky was great. Desmond wasn't even into camping. Seeing the stars as they were before bright lights and big cities is something else. His ancestors had seen it, but it was a different experience looking at them with his own eyes and knowing how they would look in the future.

"Damn," he couldn't help but say as he stared out at the carpet of stars above him.

"What?" Connor asked.

"The stars," Desmond explained. "I've never seen them like this. It's amazing."

Connor glanced up to the stars, not looking awed the way Desmond felt. "They seem normal. Are they different in your time?"

"Yeah, actually. Stars grow and die like living things. The sky has changed, even the moon is farther away. Mostly it's humans that have changed. We built up our cities, and they give out so much light that you can't see so many stars. It's something else to see them like this."

Connor looked back down to him then shrugged. Desmond didn't care. There was so much ahead of them how could he not appreciate the sight of so many bright stars? It all came back to the stars anyways.

"Did you know we are made of the same stuff as the stars?" Desmond asked.

Connor shot him a disbelieving look. Desmond smiled. "Stars are giant furnaces and make the materials that build the universe. When the big ones die, they explode sending that material out across the universe to create new stars and planets. The Earth is no exception and so we too are made of stars."

"How do you know that?" Connor asked.

Desmond laughed. "I read an article about it, went to a planetarium, you know. There have always been people in history fascinated by the stars and eventually we had the technology to be able to study them better with physics and chemistry and everything else. Everything that exists was made by the stars."

Connor looked up at the sky again. "I suppose that could give you a new appreciation for them."

Their journey to Acre continued the following morning, and they kept to the same pattern. They taught Connor Arabic, and kept to less used trails to avoid any guards or stationed soldiers. The benefit of heading to Acre is they would not be going far enough south to near the armies. And every night, Desmond stared up at the stars, embracing the majesty of the universe and appreciating the feeling of cosmic insignificance. Looking at the stars, he wasn't a savior chosen by a long dead race of people for his DNA and family legacy to save the Earth and life on it. He was just one man looking up at a near infinite universe he could only see one small piece of.

On the seventh day of their journey, Desmond finally saw the walls of Acre and the weight of significance and duty returned to his shoulders as the next task lay in the city before him.

* * *

There were a couple people that were like Altair speaks English doesn't he? And like yeah, but in the 12th century its Middle English and very early Middle English at that whether you go by the 1066 starting point with William the Conqueror bringing French over or the Oxford English Dictionary date of 1150. Shakespeare used early modern English if you want an easy comparison for how different Middle English is from modern English. If you can't understand Shakespeare without footnotes then you're definitely not going to be able to understand Middle English.

Paper as a writing material was definitely invented by the 12th century, and had been spreading to the Middle East starting from the 700s so yes the Assassins could have used parchment or papyrus, but given they have a giant library I figured they might decide to be high tech and go with paper. The Middle East also used pens rather than brushes for writing, but reed pen versus quill was an arbitrary decision. This is also a time before standardized spelling and punctuation so yeah I absolutely believe a guy like Altaïr would be like screw punctuation we're going for maximum efficiency.

I gave Desmond a gun since his ancestors get some, and also there's no way he'd go on a mission with absolutely no armor so modified bulletproof vest it is. There are soft versions available instead of the big thick ones with plates in them like you see on soldiers. Rifling is also super important for gun accuracy, and rifles were used but rarely as they required cleaning between shots which is bad when you need fast reload times during the US War of Independence so Connor would know about it. They were still using balls rather than bullets, and it wasn't until the US Civil War that bullets were introduced hence the reason so many soldiers died. Desmond also said they would sound like a cannon, and like it's not actually any more useful for Altaïr and Malik because cannons were not a thing yet for another century or so for either European or Middle Eastern armies. Loud unfamiliar bangs are still not great for stealth or subtlety.

Adha was mentioned in AC1 (iirc one of the informants mentions her to Altaïr), but again I don't care for the side games so like I made shit up for what Desmond knows about her.

Arab or Islamic slave trade of Africans started well before the Crusades in the 8th century and arguably hasn't stopped since. Arab slave trade was different from Atlantic slave trade in that they had a 2 to 1 rather of women to men rather than the other way around as in the Americas because they provided mostly domestic rather than plantation labor. Other races and ethnicities were also made into slaves or indentured servants in the Middle East before during and after the Crusades, but the slave trade with African slaves definitely helped lead the way to the Atlantic slave trade. The combination of the historical effects of slavery and racism has obviously been the worst for one particular population and we all know which one.

I think that's it for notes, hope you enjoyed this super long time coming update!


End file.
